


The Right Call

by FictionalNutter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amulet Fix-It, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Helpful Gabriel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective John Winchester, Sam-Centric, Samulet, Samulet Fix-It, Season/Series 05, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicidal Sam, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionalNutter/pseuds/FictionalNutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Sam dies in the past, John won't be forced to sacrifice himself for Dean after a car accident, Dean won't go to Hell, and Lucifer's cage will stay shut.</p><p>Sam's family completely disagrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Call

John Winchester slammed the trunk of the Impala shut, hoisting his duffel bag over his shoulder and stomping into the motel room. It was pretty early in the evening, but he had been driving most of the day and was looking forward to rest. He fussed with the key for a moment before finally managing to get it the right way round and in the lock. Sighing heavily, he swung the door open and traipsed into the room, tossing the duffel on top of the small chest of drawers and shutting the door behind him.

As soon as the door shut with a 'click,' a voice said, "Hey."

John whirled around, pistol already in his hand and cocked. His eyes took a second to adjust, and he realized the voice had come from a man seated in the one chair the room had. He was about as far from John as he could be in the small space, and hadn't made any attempt to move.

Smacking the light switch with a quick motion, John relaxed minutely as the room was illuminated and he got a better look at what he was dealing with. Even seated, he could tell the man was tall, and obviously well muscled. He was dressed like a hunter - jeans, cargo jacket, plaid shirt, boots - but his hair was long, way too long to be practical, surely. "Who the hell are you?" He demanded, shifting a little closer but still keeping the gun trained on his unexpected visitor.

The man held his hands up slowly, then let them drop back into his lap. "I'm not a threat, I swear. I'm here to talk to you."

"That doesn't answer my question," John shot back. "Who the hell are you?"

The man looked up, his face pinched. "It's kind of complicated. Promise to hear me out?"

John was struck by how familiar the man seemed, though he was positive he'd never seen him before. It was something about the eyes, although he wasn't sure he'd ever seen eyes that looked like they'd witnessed that much pain. "Start talking," John replied tightly.

"Okay..." The man drifted off, gnawing at his lip. "This is going to be hard. Just - can you tell me what year this is?"

"What kind of question is that?" John demanded, incredulous. Even with everything he'd run into in the roughly ten years he'd been hunting, he'd never come across anything to suggest it was possible to mess around with time. Whoever this guy was, he was screwing with him.

"Just humor me?" The man asked, sounding resigned.

"Fine, it's 1993. You happy?" John threw the words out accusingly, his confusion increasing his hostility.

The man winced. "Dammit. I was hoping I wouldn't have come back quite that far." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, you're not going to believe me, but I'm going to try and make this as simple as possible."

"That would be nice, seeing as you still haven't told me who the hell you are or why you're here," John pointed out wryly.

"I'm Sam Winchester," the man said bluntly. "From about seventeen years in the future, give or take."

"Bullshit," John said bluntly. "Try again."

Sam leveled his gaze at his father, pushing aside the emotions arising from seeing the man again so many years after his death - or before his death, depending on how you looked at it. "You're John Eric Winchester, born in 1954. Your father was Henry and your mother was Millie. You used to be a mechanic, but after Mom died you met Missouri Moseley and went on the road with your kids, intending to find the thing that killed Mom. It's 1993, so that means I'm ten and Dean's fourteen, or somewhere around there. I don't know what month this is, but my birthday's in May and his is in January. What else do you want to know?"

John was openly gaping at him, finger still on the trigger but clearly too shocked to even consider shooting the gun. "You can't be Sam," he argued. "Time travel isn't even possible."

"I had help," Sam said bluntly. "From an enemy, actually. Someone who agreed with me about what needed to be done. I need your help. I'm already going to majorly screw with time here, so I was assured it wasn't a big deal if I told you some stuff you need to know. First though - where are Sam and Dean?"

It took John a second to realize that the tall shaggy-haired man meant his current children, the ones unaffected by freaking time travel of all things. "With Singer," he answered.

Sam's eyes focused on the ceiling for a moment as he ran through memories in his head, trying to figure out when in time he was. "1993...is it July?" He asked suddenly.

"Yeah, July 18th to be exact," John replied. "Why?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing, I just remember when I am now. You left us at Bobby's for most of July so that Dean could help him with the mechanic business after that werewolf broke his arm. You're here to hunt...what was it, a ghoul or something?"

"You have a good memory," John acknowledged, slowly lowering his gun and flicking the safety back on. "This is weird as hell, but somehow I'm inclined to believe you."

"Thanks," Sam offered relaxing a little now that it seemed John would listen. He sat back a little, fidgeting in his seat, and a glint of gold caught John's eye.

"Is that Dean's amulet?" John asked, surprised.

Sam's hand flew up to the little pendent, wrapping around it protectively. "Yeah." He replied, not clarifying at all.

"Where is Dean?" John demanded. "What made you time travel in the first place?"

"Back in the future," Sam replied absently, wringing his hands without really thinking about it. "He doesn't actually know I'm here, to be honest."

John raised an eyebrow. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine," Sam answered automatically. "A lot better than I am."

John's eyes narrowed. "You've been pretty vague this whole time. Want to actually try explaining now?"

Sam blew out his breath in a slow gust, then inhaled again slowly. "Okay, I need to clarify what you already know. I know you kept secrets from us about Yellow Eyes."

John's head snapped up. "The demon."

So, Sam had been right. Even early on, John had kept secrets. "His name is Azazel," Sam offered.

John's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "How do you know that?" He asked warily.

Sam didn't answer. "You know he was there for me, not Mom," he stated.

There was a pregnant pause, then John nodded slowly. "Yeah. I figured it out. I don't know much, but it's been hard to track down any real proof."

Sam huffed and started speaking quickly. "Well here, let me clear some things up. Azazel was creating an army of special children, his phrase, not mine. He fed each child he selected his blood in order to unlock abilities within them. In about thirteen years, he's going to transport all those children to an abandoned town in the middle of nowhere and make them fight to the death. Last one standing gets to be the leader of a demon army." Sam paused, giving John a minute to absorb that.

John looked conflicted, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "What happened?" He asked, his tone dark.

"It was a lead up to a bigger plan," Sam began again. "I died. I refused to kill the other contestant left alive, and he repaid me by stabbing me through my spine, in my lower back." Standing slowly, Sam turned and lifted up his layers, revealing the clump of scar tissue to his father.

John inhaled sharply, and the dismay was clear in his eyes when Sam sat back down. "How the hell are you still alive?"

"Hell," Sam answered simply. "Dean sold his soul to bring me back to life, getting only a year in exchange."

John's jaw dropped in unapologetic horror. "You said he was fine!" He accused.

"He is. An angel pulled him out of Hell four months later," Sam explained. Every science fiction movie he'd ever seen was warring against him explaining all of this, but he'd been assured that the timeline would already be disrupted so much that it wouldn't make a difference.

"There's no such thing," John answered automatically, his expression suspicious.

"His name is Castiel," Sam continued, ignoring the contradiction. "At the time he was serving Heaven exclusively, but he's since switched allegiance entirely to Dean." Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

John raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "Did an angel send you back in time?"

Sam shook his head. "That would have been easier, probably, but none of them are willing to work with me anyway. Castiel barely tolerates me as it is."

"Why?" John asked, eyes narrowing again.

Sam took a deep breath, hating that he had to admit this to his father. "Before Dean went to Hell, we had been sort of working with this one demon from time to time. Enemy of my enemy sort of thing." Sam winced at the frank disapproval radiating off his father, but pushed forward. "Her name was Ruby, and her presence after Dean died was one of the only reasons I survived the four months he was gone. That's why it was so hard for me to see what she was doing." He paused, closed his eyes, and continued. "In order to fully take advantage of my powers, I drank demon blood. It allowed me to become more powerful and exorcise or even kill demons with my mind, usually saving the host. I thought that if I was powerful enough, I could destroy the demon responsible for Dean going to Hell, and possibly save him. Then he came back, and it was a miracle, but I didn't stop. The blood was an addiction, and Dean was so damaged from his time in Hell that we couldn't see eye to eye on anything and just kept pushing each other away."

John's horrified expression was back, and he couldn't find words to articulate what he was feeling. "Sam..." He trailed off, not sure what to say. "I can't pretend to even imagine, but..."

"I know." Sam replied, his voice full of self-recrimination. "You don't need to say it. Lilith was the demon responsible for Dean's deal, and I was working to kill her. We found out from the angels that she was trying to set Lucifer free, so killing her became even more important to me. What we didn't know was that the angels wanted the apocalypse to happen. Dean and I fought, and I left him to go with Ruby to end Lilith. Dean...he gave up on me then, and I went after Lilith expecting it to be the end of me, but intending to take her with me." Sam inhaled slowly before continuing. "I killed her, only to discover that killing Lilith was the final seal in the process to open Lucifer's cage. I set Lucifer free. Dean came after me, and we barely escaped, somehow, and we've spent all the time since trying to prevent the apocalypse. Dean is avoiding the angels because he's Michael's vessel, and I'm avoiding the demons and the angels because I'm Lucifer's vessel." Sam paused, then huffed to himself. "That's about it."

John leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "My god, Sam."

"I know." Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair again.

"Where am I in all of this?" John asked hesitantly after a moment.

Sam gnawed at his lip for a minute before replying. "Dead. About twelve years from now I think. Dean didn't take it well."

John raised an eyebrow. "What about you?"

Sam shook his head. "Dean needed me more than I needed to grieve."

John rolled his eyes and made a scoffing noise under his breath. His children had always been overly self-sacrificial for each other. Apparently it only got worse with time. "I admit, Sam, I'm not sure exactly why you've told me this awful story."

Sam straightened in his seat and nodded. "Yeah, okay. Look, if Lucifer takes hold of me as his vessel, it's game over. Michael might defeat him, but he'd have to take over Dean to even have a chance, and there's no way in hell I'm risking that happening to him. I came back because the only way for Dean and the rest of the world to be safe is for me to never have a chance to do any of it. I can't save Mom, but I can save you and Dean."

John was wary now. "How do you figure?"

"I need to die," Sam said frankly. "I can't kill myself in my time because Lucifer will just bring me back. If I die in the past though, especially before any angel interference starts, they shouldn't be able to do anything. This way is better. You know enough to take out Azazel without repeating history, Dean won't lose you so young, he'll never go to Hell, and Lucifer will stay in his cage. Everybody wins."

John gaped at him. "You honestly thought I would just be willing to help you kill yourself? You're my son, Sam! Not to mention you're ten years old in my time. You thought I'd be willing to murder my own child?"

"I wasn't going to ask you to do it," Sam defended himself. "I just needed your help, and I needed you to understand so that nothing happens to jeopardize this plan. I remember growing up feeling like you were worried I was going to turn, Dad. I couldn't identify what I was feeling until I was older and we were finding out about Azazel. You know what your last words were? You told Dean that if he couldn't save me that he would have to kill me. That's when I knew you must have known something was wrong with me from the beginning. I wanted your help because I know you're pragmatic enough to realize this is the right call."

John stood up, his expression angry. "Don't you dare! I've always been worried about what your mother's killer could have wanted with you, but how dare you assume that means I would want you dead? You're my son! I would never hurt you!"

Sam made a face at that, but didn't contradict the statement. "If I don't die, the consequences are far worse than any possible benefit to letting live," he said quietly. "If I don't have your cooperation in this, that's fine, I'll make it work, but don't think you can change my mind."

John opened his mouth to argue, but a loud noise that almost sounded like feathers interrupted him, followed by a grunt and a moan like someone had just come off a Tilt-A-Whirl.

Sam turned to catch sight of Dean and stood, moving forward instantly to block his brother's way. "What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demanded. "How did you even find me?"

Dean held up a finger, his other hand on his stomach. "Give me a sec," he muttered, turning away and dry heaving before straightening back up. "I friggin' hate time travel, man."

"You've done this before?" John asked incredulously from behind them.

Dean's head shot up, noticing his father for the first time. "Oh my god, Dad," he breathed, eyes wide.

"Dean?" John asked, realizing that the strong and tall man in front of him had to be his eldest. He was marginally shorter than Sam, but stockier, and exactly like a hunter. John was almost proud, although it struck him that perhaps he shouldn't be pleased that his children were still hunting so many years later, if Sam's story was anything to go by.

Shaking his head as though to clear it, Dean turned to Sam, poking him in the chest. "What do you think you're doing?!" He yelled.

Sam shook his head. "No, I'm not doing this with you. How did you find me?"

Dean glared at him for a moment before answering. "I found the car you stole abandoned by the warehouse, and I saw all the summoning stuff so I figured you'd called in a demon. I had Cas come take a look and he said there was residual spell magic or some crap that suggested time travel."

"Cas isn't powerful enough for a jump back in time," Sam contradicted him. "How'd you get here?"

Dean huffed a laugh. "Gabriel," he admitted.

"Bullshit," Sam replied, startled. "Gabriel hates us."

"As in the archangel Gabriel?" John asked, eyebrows skyrocketing.

"Not now," Sam responded without looking.

Dean shrugged. "Cas tracked him down for help. He was pissed, but agreed to send me back just because we were trying to find you. Cas says he has a thing for you." Dean offered half a grin with the last statement.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Cas did  _not_ say Gabriel has a thing for me," he stated firmly.

"I may have paraphrased," Dean admitted. "Anyway, Gabriel could sense enough of the spell or whatever to figure out what had happened and sent me back to find you so we can get back."

"You shouldn't have come," Sam groused.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? You want to tell me what you're doing in the 90's? This isn't even a good music era, bro. If you needed a break, you could have picked a better year to go frolic in."

"I'm not here for fun!" Sam bit back, rubbing at his temples.

John stood, not content to be left out of the conversation anymore. "Sam came back in time to tell me all about the crap you two have gone through as justification for getting my help to kill his ten-year-old self," he informed his eldest, folding his arms and giving his youngest a disapproving look. "We were arguing about why it's an awful idea when you showed up."

Dean had gone pale and was staring at Sam. "Sam, is that true?" He asked. When his younger brother hesitantly nodded, Dean swore under his breath. "Cas said...but I didn't believe him. What the hell, Sam?"

"If I die," Sam began with determination, "Dad knows about Azazel and takes him out without dying, you still have him, you don't go to Hell, and Lucifer never gets released. The entire world will be safe, and you never have to go through all the crap you've dealt with. Explain to me why this is a bad idea, other than some remaining sentiment that makes it seem wrong. You know I'll say yes eventually. I already doomed the whole world, and there's no reason to believe I can hold out forever. I'm not risking the planet or you when we can take care of this right now."

"You. Will. Not. Say. Yes." Dean ground out, his teeth gritted. "God, Sam, what on earth makes you think I'd be okay with this? Or that Dad would be, for that matter?"

"You weren't actually supposed to know," Sam admitted. "I was hoping to be done before you realized where I was. I didn't want to risk you trying to stop me."

"Did you ever doubt I would?" Dean asked incredulously.

John laid a hand on his younger son's shoulder, marveling briefly at the height of the man. "Sam, even in spite of the story you've just told me, I would never sacrifice you like that. I'm hurt that you even think I would."

Sam flinched and started to protest, but Dean interrupted.

"Just because you set Lucifer free doesn't automatically mean you're evil incarnate, Sam," he explained with exasperation. "Even if I had the choice, I would never take back the deal I made for you. We'll get through this, okay? I'm not letting you die, and I'm not letting you say yes. You'll do the same for me, and we'll get through this."

Sam could feel his eyes watering, and he blinked rapidly to stop any traitorous liquid from escaping. "I...I thought you'd given up on me," he muttered quietly.

"I-" Dean cut off, his eyes suddenly fixed on the amulet dangling from Sam's neck. "Oh."

John saw that the object had grabbed his son's attention and capitalized on it. "I wondered why you weren't wearing that," he said pointedly. "Especially since not even a year ago, for me at least, you made us all dig through a swamp for over an hour looking for it after the cord had snapped."

Dean huffed a laugh at the memory, but sobered quickly. "Sammy..." he trailed off when Sam's head snapped up, clear shock on his face. It took him a second to realize - he hadn't called his brother that in a long time. "Okay, that's it," Dean muttered, moving forward and pulling his brother into a hug. "I'm not giving up on you, okay? Never. We're going to get through this suck ass apocalypse together, and neither one of us is giving up."

Sam's hands floundered for a moment before he tentatively hugged his brother back. "Dean..."

"I mean it, Sammy," Dean said firmly. "There's no room for argument here. Screw Heaven, screw Hell, and especially screw the freaking archangels. Except Gabriel, since we kinda need him to get back to our time."

Sam snorted under his breath.

John watched as the brothers finally separated, his arms folded over his chest. "Does that mean we're done with this insanity?" He asked pointedly.

Sam blew out his breath slowly, glancing at Dean, who was glaring at him meaningfully. "I guess so," he replied, nodding to himself.

"Good," John stated. He glanced at Dean, who was watching him now that the crisis with his younger brother had more or less been resolved. John fought internally for a moment before giving up and moving forward, pulling both of his adult sons into a hug. "I'm proud of you both," he said firmly, ignoring the jolt of surprise he felt from Sam. "I don't care about the upcoming apocalypse or whatever else, you two are fighting as best as you can and you're together, which is all I can ask for." He tightened his grip, then released them and stepped back. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't ever want to see either of you again."

Dean laughed out loud and Sam cracked a smile. "Yes, sir," they said in tandem.

There was a pause, and an understanding settled between the three of them. Before anyone could say anything else, the scenery abruptly changed and they were back in the warehouse Sam had left from.

"Welcome back!" Gabriel called out casually, lounging against a pole. "How were the 90's?"

Dean was dry heaving again, and Sam had a hand against his head, trying to settle his dizziness. Once that faded, he looked up and made eye contact with the archangel. "I guess I owe you a thank you," he admitted.

Gabriel shrugged. "Nah, your brother does though. We may not see eye to eye on everything, kiddo, but you've grown on me. You know, like fungus. Can't say I'd like to see you dead, that's all."

Sam eyed the archangel warily and nodded. "Well, thanks anyway," he offered.

Dean finally straightened, wincing and shaking his head. "Ugh, I hate that," he moaned. Glancing at Gabriel, he nodded to the archangel. "Thanks for your help."

"It'll be fun having you in my debt," Gabriel replied with a grin. "Speaking of, I wiped your father's memory when I pulled you two back, so the timeline hasn't been messed up by your fumbling around. Now get out of here before you two attract any other powerful beings. Like, you know, my brothers, for example?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted us to say yes."

Gabriel hesitated. "I may be reevaluating my position on the effectiveness of that strategy," he said vaguely. "For now, let's just say I'm being generous and be done with it." Snapping his fingers, the archangel vanished.

Dean glanced at Sam, then motioned to the door. "Let's get out of here."

Sam moved to follow his brother, taking a deep breath before saying, "I'm sorry, Dean."

The older Winchester flinched slightly, but kept walking, getting to the Impala and opening the door. "Look, Sammy, let's be done with this and move on, okay? From now on we do this together. No more angsty bullshit."

Sam couldn't help grinning a little. "Okay, deal."

The two got in the car, and Dean gestured towards the warehouse. "So, which demon do I need to disembowel for helping you with this stupid idea?"

Sam sighed, but answered without arguing. "Crowley. He had access to the right kind of magic and enough power to make it happen, but it wasn't all that precise and it was kind of uncomfortable. Angel travel is much better."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Better. Sure. Next time we run across that weasel, I'm gutting him."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say."

"In the meantime," Dean continued as if Sam hadn't spoken, "Cas was talking about some weird signs in Minnesota, so I figured we'd head there."

"Sound good," Sam agreed. He relaxed as Dean started the engine, the roar of the Impala immediately making him feel at home.

As they pulled out onto the road, Dean turned on the stereo and the heavy rhythm of Def Leppard filled the car. They weren't even a minute down the road before Dean was holding his hand out in front of Sam, gesturing towards his brother in a 'give it' motion. Without missed a beat, Sam slid the amulet over his head and dropped it into Dean's hand, watching as his brother looped it over his head and tugged it down around his neck, humming along to the song as the amulet settled into place. Things weren't perfect by a long shot, but it was just enough to make them feel like conquering the apocalypse might be possible.


End file.
